


Split Loyalties

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Chas and John [5]
Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, M/M, Punishment, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:53:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set just post S01E13. Spoiler note.</p><p>As Zed and John begin to make their way home, a feathered friend happens by to have a private conversation with Mr Constantine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And from here this fic is gonna be a little plottier and more emotive than just porn. Whoops.

 “You gonna stick it to Jimmy, then?” John says, hands in his pockets as he and Zed move toward the car. It's a taxi – an actual taxi, and not Chas', 'cause they've got a little ways to go before Chas is gonna be driving them around – and it's best to get the sexy bit of the conversation out of the way first.

John can't even count the number of times gossiping in a taxicab has bitten him in the ass.

“How old are you, John?” She asks, shaking her head, but when she looks off it's almost _wistful_ , and God, that hurts him. His thing with Chas or not, he likes having people around, people that enjoy _his_ company, and she might be heading off to New Orleans all the time now. Besides, if old Corrigan is going to bite it, he'd rather she didn't _love_ him at that point.

“You bein' serious, love, or…?”

“Get in the car.”

“Heh.” He throws his fag on the floor and jams his heel into its burning end, stifling the small flame, and then he slides into the seat beside her. “Got the address, mate?”

“Got it.” It's a feminine voice, and he raises an eyebrow, interested in this _lady_ taxi cab driver, but Zed's hand slaps his chest, and he sits back in his seat without complaint. It's not like his old _Chas_ doesn't satisfy him.

John sits back in the seat, eyes drifting closed, and he thinks of Chas as Zed settles a sketchpad in her little lap and starts to scribble – probably some portrait of Mr Soon-To-Be-Dead, if not a vision inspired little number. He lets his mind drift, and it starts off somewhere in the midst of Chas' year-softened abs, though John would ~~be the first to~~ _possibly_ admit that Chas' paunch gets him a tad hot under the collar, and then his thoughts move to Chas' chest, Chas' arms, Chas' hands around John's neck, Chas choking him while fucking him so full he couldn't breathe even if there _weren't_ big hands around his throat…

John crosses his legs, a slight smirk settling on his lips as he lets his little fantasy evolve, but-

“John.” His eyes open: his brow furrows.

“Manny.” He says distrustfully, because Zed is _his_ favourite too now, and yet he's just chosen to inhabit her instead of their (potentially lovely, though he's not leaned forwards to get a nice glimpse yet) cab driver.

The angel smirks a little, which is _never_ a good sign, and he adjusts Zed's pad in his _own_ lap to stop it falling. John's first guess was right; Corrigan is right there, rotting cheeks and all. Sexy, he supposes, in a Beetlejuice way.

“So, what's with the outfit, eh? Zed can understand you, now.”

“Which is why I chose to take _her_ body to talk to _you_. Privately.” John lets out a bitter little laugh, eyebrows raising as he regards the other man.

“What, you don't talk to me privately enough as it is? What is it you wanna hide from _Zed_ , eh?” Something bitter and sad and small in John's chest leaps at the thought that Manny – that an _angel_ – still prefers him in some way to a girl as good as Zed is. Pathetic, really. He's going to ignore that.

“Not hide from her, exactly.” Manny says, and he doesn't speak particularly quietly, but he does talk in a sort of blunt fashion before suddenly looking _awkward._ “Your.” He pauses. “Relationship, with Chas Chandler.”

“Chas ain't any of your business, mate.” John says immediately; Manny's throat bobs a little. John has a stray thought devote itself contentedly to the wonder as to what spread of different parts dear Manny got to enjoy on his rendezvous as a bloke off Grey's Anatomy. “My _relationship_ with him is my business, but if you're worried… We _do_ use a safeword.”

Manny almost winces, and the childish, contentious part of John considers that a victory.

“I just wanted to remind you that you follow _higher_ orders. Your recreational submission, while-” Manny clears his throat. “Not punishable, comes _after_ your submission to your work.”

“S'not like we got a _contract_ , mate. I'm not gonna give him me heart in a jar.” If Manny were someone else, he'd say, “No, John, but you'll give him your dick.” Unfortunately, Manny's an angel, and they're not a clever lot, really, in the innuendo sense.

“You give him enough already.” Manny says dryly. Well, colour John impressed.

“I try and be a good lad for Daddy.” John says sarcastically, and suddenly Zed is looking at him with raised eyebrows, looking mildly perturbed.

“Are you gonna start talking to me like that too?” Zed asks, and he makes a _tschooking_ noise at her.

“Sorry, love, just, ah, _thinking_ 'bout a text to send the old man. You want him to buy you owt in the morning?” John quickly has his phone in his hand, and Chas texts back quickly enough, probably because he's under four feet of parchment, paper and assorted information, and John's texts offer a reprieve.

As will John's sexts, if he stays awake to.

“No, but thanks.” Zed retorts, rolling her eyes.

John stares at the little _Chas is typing…_ notification, and there's something that twists in his belly; he doesn't put fun with Chas before the job, but at the moment he's _relishing_ fun with Chas over the job. He thinks of being in bed with Chas, and for some reason sex doesn't even come into it; just the idea of being spread on his belly, face against the bigger man's thighs seems nice enough at the moment.

Maybe he's getting _soppy_ in his old age.

Maybe.


	2. Chapter 2

Chas is sleeping when Zed and John come home; the radio is on beside his bed, and he doesn't stir at the sound of the door at the top of the stairs opening and closing, even though he'd left his bedroom door open to ensure he didn't miss it.

He doesn't stir until John slides very carefully into bed beside him, doing his level best to make his way under Chas' arms and properly against his chest, and Chas comes awake with a quiet hum, blinking bleary eyes and regarding the blond muss suddenly against his nose with a small frown.

“John?” Chas asks, voice low with sleep; John lets out a quiet grunt and presses his chest against Chas', his face burrowing somewhere in the expanse of Chas' neck.

“S'fine, Chas. Lemme sleep.” Chas frowns into the darkness; John has turned off his radio, and now John is _cuddling._ It's not really his style, not like this, not _this_ close: John usually flops on top of or beside Chas, without doing his best to burrow into the larger man's hold. Chas isn't going to complain at the extra contact, though, and he throws the blanket over John's body as well, letting his eyes close shut.

\---

John is making breakfast. Not completely bizarre in itself – Chas is aware that John knows how to cook, and simply chooses not to, most of the time. He's not good at it in the way Chas is, and can do nothing intricate, but he can certainly feed himself bacon and eggs if he needs to eat. What is weird is the fact that he's cooking not just for himself, but for Chas and for Zed.

John is not a caring figure: he can't afford to be, with his line of work _or_ his arrogance, and so cooking for his little family is not something he generally puts himself forwards for. He rarely so much as buys take-out for the three of them together.

“Here you go, love.” John says as he drops a plate in front of Zed, and she offers a distracted, subdued “ _Gracias._ ” without looking up from the sketch she's currently making of Jim Corrigan. Corrigan doesn't look too nice in the picture, either, given that his cheek is caved in and part of his temple has rotted away, but Chas decides not to comment on _that_ for the time being. She starts to eat, all the same, and that's the important thing. “Chas.” John pushes a plate into his hand, and Chas sits, beginning to eat as John makes himself a “sarnie”.

Chas watches him as he moves, because Constantine isn't looking at Chas, for some reason, and Chas finds it _fishy_ to say the least.

It's not until after they're done eating that Chas corners John as he works, puts his hands on the other's hips and drags him back towards the bedroom. John lets out a dirty little chuckle and he lets Chas pull him, begins to press little kisses over Chas' neck as he unbuttons the other man's shirt.

“Oh, _Chas, Chazzy-Chas,_ I really want to ha-”

Chas pushes John back onto the bed and kicks the door shut behind him, and John stares up at him with parted lips and slightly wide eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, there was some paedo in the woods, and he was a satanist, went around-” And here John goes on the _bullshit_ , on the story he isn't interested in hearing.

“No.” Chas interrupts him, and John stops short. Something moves in his throat, and then he leans back in his seat, looks up at Chas with a little smirk.

“Met a stripper in town when askin' questions. She 'ad a few thoughts about submission, that's all.” Chas lets himself puff down a little, and he regards John with a small frown, expectant. John shifts in his seat, flops back and looks up at Chas with a tired look. “Said something about real subs wearing evidence.”

“Evidence?” John shifts on the bed, sprawls and arches his back in a non-commital fashion. He looks uncomfortable.

“You know. Collar.”

“Do you want a collar?”

“Nope.”

“Then why're you so upset?”

“Dunno.” John says, and Chas leans, grabs him by the knees and pulls his ass forwards on the bed, until they're mouth to mouth, face to face, and John has this sort of _moue_ on his face at being made to talk about his feelings. Chas elects, for the time being, to let the matter drop.

He hooks his fingers in the other's belt and begins to undo it, and then he undoes John's trousers. John lets him, gaze hovering over Chas' fingers, over Chas' face. Chas uncovers each new patch of skin and John just _lets_ him, obediently moving his arms and legs but not commenting, not moving too much.

“You're quiet.” Chas says once he has John naked, and John gives him a sarcastic little grin.

“Perhaps I was hopin' you'd _worship_ me.”

“I think enough people worship you, John.” Chas returns, and it's a low enough blow that John's faux-confident act drops for a moment, and he regards Chas with an expression of _affront_ on his face. “D'you wanna play?”

John bites his lip, arches his back and spreads his legs to make himself look as delectable as possible. “Come on, Daddy. Throw me around, make me cry.” Surprising how much he's started to _embrace_ being made to sob by Chas' hand.

“You suck my dick, John, you'll get a _reward_.” Chas murmurs, and he slides his hands up the other's thighs. “How's that sound?”

“What reward?” John asks with a little _smirk_ on his face, and Chas slaps his thigh and delights in the way he grunts and thrusts his hips in response.

“You suck my cock like a good little _lad_ , Johnny, and you'll find out.”

“I _hate_ you, Chas.” John says, and his every expression says that he _doesn't_ , that he loves Chas Chandler, that he would worship every inch of the man's skin if he had time to. Chas grasps him by the jaw, _squeezes_ and looks at him expectantly. “I hate you. _**Daddy**_.”

“That's a lad.” John comes forwards on his knees, and he leans towards Chas, desperate for a kiss; Chas allows it, and he kisses the man properly before unbuckling his belt. John pulls back, and for a moment on his face there's some sort of _stress_ , but then John dips his head and all Chas sees on his face is _bliss_.

He basks in submission, just like this, at the moment, and Chas must be the devil for enjoying it, but he does. Manny has the guy at his beck and call, doing everything he asks, even if John is pretty sarcastic doing it – Chas is lucky to have a little piece of that, just in the bedroom.

“Is it gonna be a _good_ reward, _Daddy_?” John asks, as lascivious as he can manage. “I like feeling the bruises you leave, Chas, like feelin' your _hands_ after days of it.”

“Depends on how well you put your mouth to work, Johnny.” Chas says, and he smirks a little, knowing full well John is _not_ going to consider what he has in mind a reward, little masochistic _ass_ that he is.

John grins, and moves to unzip Chas' pants.

 


End file.
